


Three Girls and a Flaming Orgasm

by rainer76



Category: Fringe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-10
Updated: 2012-08-10
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainer76/pseuds/rainer76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the Prompt:  Apparently, July 31st is National Orgasm Day! Did you know that? I did not know that.How does the Fringe team celebrate? Individually, or together? And if they miss the day, how do they make up for lost time?  ORGASMS FOR YAY.</p><p>Slightly unconventional response to the prompt</p>
    </blockquote>





	Three Girls and a Flaming Orgasm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Prompt: Apparently, July 31st is National Orgasm Day! Did you know that? I did not know that.How does the Fringe team celebrate? Individually, or together? And if they miss the day, how do they make up for lost time? ORGASMS FOR YAY.
> 
> Slightly unconventional response to the prompt

“Six,” Astrid says, and knocks her bottle back. The line of her throat’s exposed as she swallows, a long column of coffee skin. Rachel looks at her.

The pub’s crowded, a rowdy Friday night where the music swells, their conversation dictated by the lulls in noise pollution. The three of them are pushed into their regular corner - their old, regular corner - before Rachel moved upstate and Olivia gained a whole set of different memories – and explaining _why_ she couldn’t remember her nephew was one of the most horrid days of Olivia’s life. Their table has a padded booth, the leather seats cracked and the table pot-marked with stains. There’s a forest of empty bottles in front of them; Lemon Russki’s, beers, and lollipop drinks of all persuasion. Olivia sips from her 7Up and pulls the cashews closer, her mouth tilting into a smile.

“Seriously?” Rachel whines.

“Eleven,” Olivia counters then shrugs when both women turn to face her. “Admittedly, it was by my own hand.”

“Does Peter know that?”

“I thought I’d challenge him when he’s shoulder’s fully healed; see if he can best it.”

“Hmm.”

“The first is always the most intense,” Astrid reveals slowly, eyes half-lidded. Her curls are in her eyes, skin flushed with the heat of the crowd. “If you don’t stop it turns, white noise in my ears and everything overloaded, it’s like nails down a blackboard, borderline discomfit. But if you don’t stop, don’t stop, it turns again and the second one - it’s harder to achieve - drawn out like a siren-song. After that, they just roll one after another until I’m humming with it; whole body rushing from fingertips to toes, alive, awake and very much _here_. I don’t’ understand how guys just crash. One ejaculation and they roll over and fall asleep.”

“From life-span to endurance,” Rachel declares solemnly. “Men aren’t built to last.”

“Penis envy,” Olivia declares into the silence and Astrid raises her glass in salute while Rachel motions ‘yes’ with her hands. “One of the most hated words I’ll ever hear. Why don’t they just call it what it is and say equal rights envy instead? They boil everything down to what’s between their legs.”

“Harris is back, isn’t he?” Rachel asks, sympathetically.

“He said those very words this afternoon. He died in the other reality.” Olivia leans into the booth, her hand running over the lip of her glass. “Burned alive. I’m not thinking noble thoughts at the moment.”

“It’s like they deliberately misinterpret, it’s not the penis we’re actually envying,” Astrid sighs. “Comparatively speaking, they’re missing out and they act like they don’t even _know_ they’re missing out, so caught up in themselves. I mean, past their teenage years they’re only good for one go, they can’t achieve multiple orgasm, they’re missing a clit, the only part of the human anatomy whose sole function is to derive pleasure. It serves no other purpose, one task to perform and that's _it_. It’s a zipline into pure sensation. But they build altars to their cocks and crow about it until the cows come home.”

“That’s…” Olivia blinks, her smile edging sideways. “That’s an interesting mix of metaphors.”

“I may have had a drink or two,” Astrid confesses.

Olivia stares at her over the neat line of bottles. “Perhaps.”

“I can’t get past the first orgasm. At least, not for five or ten minutes,” Rachel discloses. “And by then, hubby’s already come and he thinks 'game over' and I'm reduced to pillow talk, which intimacy, every girl loves, but wide awake and idling in gear one when I could be screaming in gear five.”

“Roll over and do it yourself,” Olivia says bluntly. “I find that normally wakes Peter up, gratifyingly fast, too. Sometimes he’ll join in, or watch, or whisper dirty words and tangle his hand with mine.”

“Drink!” Rachel calls to the barstaff and tilts her shot glass in their direction. “Another, please! And should I be taking notes here?”

“Experiment a little,” Astrid whispers.

“Or a lot,” Olivia adds.

Rachel raises her Flaming Orgasm in toast. “Okay."


End file.
